


Sandburg, You're Grounded

by Sally M (sallymn)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen, Humor, Series 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-13
Updated: 2009-12-13
Packaged: 2017-10-04 09:36:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sallymn/pseuds/Sally%20M
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim's trying to write Blair a note. It's not working.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sandburg, You're Grounded

**Sandburg, You're Grounded**

**Sandburg **

****

You're grounded. 

~~Blair, ~~

~~Chief, ~~

Blair, 

Simon thinks, ~~and we both know he's right~~ and ~~you know~~ I think he's right, you'll be safer at a distance. Not too much distance, Blair - I still need you, you know that, and I know you still have to get that PhD you're earning in the crappiest of crap ways - so not too much. In the bullpen is fine; in the loft, in your office at the Uni - okay, okay, maybe not so fine, not after those whacko shits from the Cascadian Karmic Army tried to blow up that sociology bash you were at, ~~and you ended up bashed ~~~~worse than any fucking socio~~... 

Hell, in the truck is fine, or would be if I could get you to stay there and it wasn't carjacked by crazies who can always see a Hostage for Hire tattoo on your damn forehead... 

Look, what I'm trying to say - while you're sleeping in that hospital bed and can't argue back, - is that ~~everyone~~ ~~nearly everyone~~ the rest of us will be happier if you read the 'observer' label on your ID, and you do the observing from somewhere nice and safe. I know, I know, you've saved my ass often enough by 'observing' up close and at my back - and yes I'm grateful, more grateful than I can ever tell you, but it's not worth what you end up paying. Choice between you and me, Chief? No choice. And I just wish I could get that through your loyal lunatic shaggy head before you ~~lose that ~~~~shaggy head to~~

  


  


* * *

Dear Blair, 

Please. You can't finish the diss if you're dead. Okay? Okay. 

So we'll make a deal, and sign on it - 

I, Jim Ellison, will take ~~any~~ nearly any tests you want, answer ~~any~~ most of the questions you ask. 

Signed: ................................. 

I, Blair Sandburg, will stop trying to get myself killed before I'm Doctor Sandburg. 

Signed: ................................. 

We'll get Simon to witness it. Hell, right now Simon would agree to announce it to the press in the Cascade PD foyer if it meant he'd never have to live through another day like today. Or try and pull you and that idiot archeologist-wannabe drug kingpin who'd got you tied up and hidden in Rainier's museum archives (damn stupid place to stash a hostage, Chief, and what's with the kidnapping all the time? Don't you know what it does to the rest of Major Crimes, let alone Simon, let alone... me???) 

Anyway, after things went from bad to explosive - as they do, they fucking always do - we had to pull you both out from under a giant Mayan-or-something godhead filled with cocaine (only you, Chief, so only you). I swear I was praying to any god including it that you were alive under there and that the crap hadn't found a way into your blood, because every god listening in knows none of us can go through that again. It was all I could do not to piss myself from sheer terror - or break down and cry in front of the whole damn PD - or kill the creep who got you into the mess in the first place, along with that fucking idiot who runs the museum and couldn't even tell that his godhead was made of cheap plaster... 

Damn it, Chief, what am I going to do with you? I'm half-tempted to ~~sic your mother on you~~ \- okay, not quite half yet. But believe me, I'm getting there. I'm not scared of your mother, Sandburg - at least, I'm less scared of getting killed when she finds out, than I am of you getting killed before she does - 

That does it, I have to tell your mother. 

~~Crap~~

  


  


* * *

Blair... 

This is hard to write, y'know? 

I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Chief. I should never have let it get this far. You deserve better, you deserve to be safe, and here you are lying in this hospital bed - again. 

I know you won't want to read this but just - please Chief, read it before you screw it up and throw it at me. Or at the nurse. Because I'm sitting here - again - watching you breathe, hearing you breathe, hell, feeling the slightest change in the air that shows you're still breathing. It was way too close this time, as close as Lash, closer than Carrasco, closer than that Mozart obsessive who tried to smash your head in with a viola filled with pirate CDs... 

I don't know what to say. Fuck, yes I do, but 'stay in the truck' and 'you're not a cop' have about as much effect as trying to stop a steamroller with a feather... and even Simon is sick of saying them. But I can't keep watching you, hearing you, waiting for you not to bounce back next time. I swear, I'm this far from asking for a desk job - highway patrol - school patrol - hell, ~~quitting the force and using these senses as a dogcatcher. Hey, maybe that would work, Chief. You could test me against the mutts, hearing, smell sight...~~ quitting the force altogether and finding something safe, at least safe for longhaired punk geniuses who insist on hanging round me even when bullets and baseball bats and violins are flying around his hairy head... 

Yeah, something safe. You like the idea of the Sentinel of the Great Library, Chief? Or could you get yourself half-killed by falling bookshelves or exploding copiers? Fuck it, you probably could. Hell, I could do a Schwarzenegger and try for Sentinel of the Kindergarten... and we'd end up with the five-year-olds of some psycho drug-dealer or murderer who decided to blow the damn school up while you were telling Naomi's damn New-Age-feminist version of Snow White and the Vertically Challenged Pagans to his ~~brats~~ little angels... 

Maybe we're better off with the crazies we've got. But noooo... you're lying in that bed, and Simon's pacing outside, and I'm sitting here trying to find a way to tell you, order you, beg you - 

Fuck it. 

  


  


* * *

Oh fuck it. Sandburg, 

You're grounded. 

  


Please??? 

Jim 

**\- the end -**


End file.
